8059 Why I want you
by toxicFetish
Summary: Well, Id have to say that this has nothing to do with the anime. Just a little sub-story I came up with in my spare time. It's my first fanific, though I'm a regular roleplayer. :3 enjoy GokuderaxYamamoto


Why?

Every day, they watch one another, their eyes following. Glances awkwardly shared on occasion. Never enough to confirm the doubt that makes their teeth clench at sight of the other, the gasp that follows after they realize thieve left themselves open to discovery. This watching, obsessing, and most of all dreaming. Why do I watch _him_? Why do I want _him_? Why…..?

Today their hearts beat ever so close, at a pace much too rapid. Yamamoto tripping over his heavy legs, Gokudera dragging himself along with Yamamoto. Dripping with pain, worry, regret. They're on their own now, to take care of each other. Tsuna decided it was time they work together, learn to complement each other, though Gokudera was the only reason they had a problem in the first place.

Either way there were safe now. Gokudera and Yamamoto managing to make it home before collapsing onto one another.

Yamamoto woke to a tense body. He was much too warm, burning wrapped around his chest, it sending layers of comfort throughout him. This unfamiliar warmth now turned to pressure. The hard floor that he had hit a few hours before now throbbed at him. His eyelids lifting themselves as his thoughts focused, quickly squinting at the morning light that peeked through the window. He lifted his head enough to see the blinding sliver mess of hair that dominated his chest. He laid his head back and smiled to himself, he knew this was a dream, the situation was ever too splendid to be real, aside form the throbbing of his tiered limbs.

After a minute of bliss he brought himself to carefully sit up, cradling Gokudera in his hands to not disturb his beloved from his sleep. Then using all his force balanced himself, enough to lift the Italian to a more suited location. Gokudera stained with gore. Cuts and bruises, all left unattended to. He wondered into the bathroom, fearing to look in the mirror at the horror that awaits him, his reflection. Without a second look at himself he grabbed a small bucket that's purpose was specific to such occasions, grabbing a washcloth after filling the bucket with warm water.

Returning to his sleeping beauty, he sat next to the bed where he was placed to rest. Swiftly he removed the warn clothing that coved all the untouched tattered flesh. After dipping the cloth into the moisture and ringing it out, he dabbed at the others skin lightly, the unconscious teen twitched in disapproval, but had not force to stop. This continued until the water turned a murky red from whipping the swollen mess off, after only completing the torso of the unconscious Italian. A few trips to refresh the bucket and he had completed the cleaning process without a single objection. Normally Gokudera would wake before Yamamoto's careful hands could treat his gashes.

He retreated to the bathroom once again, this time grabbing hydrogen peroxide, [its stuff to help clean and heal wounds] a fresh washcloth and bandages. Now he dabbed the ripped flesh with chemicals causing Gokudera to further cringe from the heat of the sting. Yamamoto covering each imperfection with a bandage.

He hadn't gotten the chance to finish when Gokudera groaned eagerly at his body's current state of distress, making him aware, flipping quickly to his conscious mind. He taking less time to comprehend the pain and his surroundings and the warmth of the two hands that lightly placed the last bandage they could manage before the furious green eyes would shank him with all their might, then claws would rip the helping hands away and lastly his mouth would cause nearby ears to sting from the rapid flow of profanity that dripped from it. Such a dangerous situation, addiction… Yamamoto had himself involved in. He waited for the torture with his signature idiotic smile, a hand placed behind his head nervously scratching at a distraction. But the green eyes held no fierce intention, nor did his hand search for flesh to rip away, his mouth left shut. Gokudera's eyes desperately locating the face of his pastime, Yamamoto. Sighing in relief the Italian realizing what the other boy had done for him and quickly glared angrily at the state Yamamoto's body was in.

"You fucking idiot!" Gokudera spit out. "I can fucking take care of myself, obviously _you_ can't do the same."

He scoffed at the selfless act of the other, he knew he was just being nice, but sill, he never asked for help. Gokudera now wishing that he could have been even half conscious while the dark haired man tended him.

Yamamoto appreciating the abuse more than he would ever admit to even himself. He knew how to read between the lines well enough to know that the Italian was just concerned. He stood up turning to the bathroom, removing his clothes along the way. Gokudera's stomach twisted in a knot at the sight of such exposures as this, to his luck Yamamoto never closed the door, he shamelessly watching, fondling his tensed groin. Today he was too warn to get so excited, but he still enjoyed the show. Gokudera with no thought or restrain nagged at Yamamoto's habit of clutter. "I don't want to have to pick that up latter!" Yamamoto grunted to silence any further stress due to him. At these sorts of moments they both wished the same thing, that they could share a shower with one another, to hold, touch feel. Warmth.

Gokudera regrettably drifted back into sleep. He was exhausted, a few more hours would do him better than torturing himself at the sight of a body which he lusted for. Yamamoto walking out, he himself due for another nap looked over at the rested face that he longed for. Crawling into Gokudera's bed was a forbidden unforgivable act. Though Yamamoto had retreated to control the couch rather than argue over a bed he still felt he had rights to sleep in it when he pleased, both of them truly wished they could sleep next to one another. Regardless of his sure to be short future from being crucified by the Italian, Yamamoto crawled into the heat which encased his whole body once under the covers. It took but seconds for the overwhelming heat of the other to melt the pain away numbing his body into a sedated state.

This time Gokudera woke to heat wrapping around his chest. Strong arms holding tight, pulling him in, his spine burning. His ears locating a snore meaning it was safe to enjoy the current position that twisted him into unfamiliar locations on the dark haired teen's body. From what he could tell one of his arms reached between the two of them, his hand touching foreign sensitive skin, realizing it was in-between hipbones sent nervous shocks up his arm to his stomach. A knot formed in his throat, he swallowed hard only causing for his heart to speed. A leg nestled between his causing his already tense body to further tighten. He didn't have a clue what to do in this situation, he knew how unnatural it would seem if he let Yamamoto get away with such vile things, though in all honesty he dreamed of this situation, wishing to wake to the delicious smell of the brunet, the heat of him flaring agents his back, toned arms protecting him from leaving his grasp, most off all owning the bare skin that lay behind his fingers currently. All this must a be a sick nightmare, it was too splendid, now the real Yamamoto would walk out seeing the pleasure of the position on his flushed face and disgustedly turn away, forever turning his back on him.

The Italian lay there silently, soon enough the snoring desists, Yamamoto woke. Gokudera hoped Yamamoto wouldn't notice his consciousness and tried to even his breath and slow his heart. Yamamoto waking to the awkward pose chuckled lightly, hoping this wouldn't disturb the others sleep so he could cherish the closeness. To Gokudera's surprise the brunet only pulled closer, nuzzling lightly, his heart beating noticeably fast and hard. The cheek that nuzzled lightly to the back of the Italians head grew a warm flush of excitement. All of these things, Gokudera noticed. Complete and utter shock, confusion, now controlled his mind. Why did he not shove him away, distance himself, his heart beat, his heat? The silver haired teen now lusted for a cigarette, this situation stressed him out. What would he do now though? 'Wake up'? How could this situation get worse? He dreamed he could enjoy this, without worry of disapproval. He sighed lightly without realizing it.

"G-Gokudera?" Yamamoto franticly voiced, just a whisper in case his prediction was false.

Gokudera stiffened clenching his jaw. 'Fuck-fuck-fuck! Gokudera, you fucking idiot!' scolding himself in the privacy of his mind, his implosive defenses activated. In a flash he was shoving Yamamoto away in this effort sacrificed himself and fell off the bed hitting the floor hard with an "Ooof! W-what the fuck!" Yamamoto quickly looked over the edge of the bed to determine how much trouble he had himself in. But Gokudera hid his face the moment their eyes met. Reviving himself the Italian sat up quickly and stormed into the bathroom slamming the door behind him, mumbling words that could make a newborn baby impure. Unable to detach the heat that covered Gokudera's face even with cold water he finally gave up and sat on the toilet seat holding his warm flesh in his fingers.

After what seemed to be ages a slight knock stole the silence. "Uhm, Gokudera? Are you okay?"

Gokudera shook his head though nobody was there to see it. "What the fuck do you think? I smell like you for Christ sake! What's fucking wrong with…" He cut himself off before he twisted his own words agents himself.

"It's no big deal, I mean body heat attracts right?" He laughed his laugh.

"How long were you awake?" The words stabbed out much too harsh, he was just as guilty.

"What do you mean?" Yamamoto now nervously placed a hand on the door as if this could help him see the other expression. "Will you let me in?" All this said with a calm soothing tone.

"Fuck off, how the hell long were you fucking awake?" Again harsh.

"Well…I didn't want to disrupt you, it seemed like about five or so minutes…. Please Gokudera, let me in?" The last words pleaded in a whimper.

Gokudera was spinning, what should he do? Yell? Scream? Let him in to see his flushed face? Admit how he feels? He knew he had no control, for his body was frozen contrary to the heat that throbbed at his cheeks, his stomach floating in his lungs. Silence echoed through his mind.

Yamamoto waited, waited for anything. How did he know? Know that he was awake at all? He wanted in. "Gokudera, let me in. Please, Gokudera? Let me in, please?" He had to see him, he needed to make sure he was okay, something was wrong. "Open the door Gokudera."

The Italian hearing the pleads form the other, he felt trapped with the truth. Over and over, every time his name sounding better in the voice that vibrated through him. "Gokudera…..please…… come on…. Gokudera…." Over and over. He needed to see Yamamoto. He needed to see him say his name, with such want. But, being who he is, being skeptical as always, giving a second thought, that want that he found in his name, it could be false. An allusion. An allusion made by himself, its purpose to torture him, to show him how he is nothing. Does he hide and never find out, or should he open the truth? He didn't want to choose. He procrastinating, why should he have to choose?

"Gokudera. Let me in."

"Let me in."

"Gokudera!"

"Why….?"


End file.
